


When You Go Quiet

by Crimson_Voltaire



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Grindelwald, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Dissociation, References to PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 18:53:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10747740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crimson_Voltaire/pseuds/Crimson_Voltaire
Summary: Where do you go when you go quiet?You certainly aren't here.





	When You Go Quiet

**Author's Note:**

> A little drabble inspired by a photo I once saw on Tumblr with the saying "where do you go when you go quiet" on it. 
> 
> Short, fluffy, self indulgent Thesival. Not beta read.

"I wonder," Theseus rasps, curling an arm about Percival's thin hips, dragging the smaller man back against his broad chest, "Where do you go when you go quiet?"

His lips brush against Percival's ear and Theseus delights in the slight shiver it pulls from this stoic, quiet soul. Percival's hands, elegant and big and work worn cup Theseus's own, their callouses brushing. But he doesn't say a word, still staring out the windows at the thunderhead rumbling in the distance.

Theseus sees this in the reflection of the glass, sees the way those coffee dark eyes are caught between the middle distances, between being here and being far away. Percival blinks when lightning flashes, bright and white and lighting up the dim office, but he gives no other reaction.

He's thinking, or living something, Theseus isn't sure.

All Scamander knows is he likes to wrap himself around Percival when he gets like this, to be the blanket in which the smaller, stockier man can find solace. 

Percival's head tips back, resting against Theseus's shoulder, and then rolls to the side. Percival's eyes flutter shut, lips parting to let a breath past. Open invitation, Theseus knows. He ducks his head, sealing their mouths together, relishing the way Percival squeezes his forearm, relishing the feel of being able to love Percival again. It's been so long.

"Where do you go?" He asks again, when they've parted for breath and it doesn't feel like they're breaking. Percival nuzzles the back of his head against Theseus, humming a quiet, indiscernible sound for half a moment.  
Choosing his words.

"Here and there," Graves replies, cryptic and quiet, "Somewhere and nowhere at all."

What he means, Theseus thinks, is back in the trenches, back in the hospital, back in that damned cigarette case, back to Ilvermorny and back to the white cliffs of Dover where they'd run about and Theseus had finally spilled his heart. But he accepts the void of Percival’s answer all the same. Theseus squeezes Percival's hand, presses a kiss to the broad swoop of a shoulder.

"I love you, you know that?"

Percival chuckles, but he’s finally seeping back into his body, coming to life again. He turns in Theseus's arms, fingers on his free hand coming to tangle in the hair at the nape of Theseus's neck. Percival reaches up, up on his tiptoes - because even if he is not small, he is still so much shorter than Theseus - and kisses him again.

"I love you too."

"Come back to me then, yeah? When you go away."

Percival hums again, a grin playing at his lips and a smile forming behind those coffee-dark eyes.

"Of course. Always."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you. Please leave your thoughts! Constructive criticism is welcome.


End file.
